


good evening shuttle bus (tell me where you're gonna take us)

by owlinaminor



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Slow Burn, character study(ish), good vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: Reon and the other boy keep talking as they make their way into the bathroom, then resume their conversation when they head back to the locker rooms.  Before they split off to their individual teams, the other boy stops and looks at Reon, green eyes wide and brilliant.“I’m Kai, by the way,” he says.  “Kai Nobuyuki.”“Oohira Reon,” Reon answers.  “It was nice to meet you.”“Yeah, nice to meet you, too.”  Kai smiles, for a moment, before turning away – and Reon wishes, strangely, that he could extend this moment – that he could hold onto that smile forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a secret santa gift for [niko](https://twitter.com/gentwithnobody) \- happy holidays, and thank you for giving me a reason to write reon/kai, objectively one of the best rarepairs to ever exist. also, thank you for [this art](https://twitter.com/gentwithnobody/status/802848276684816384), which i looked at approximately ten thousand times while writing this fic. i hope your 2017 is full of love. ❤
> 
> [becky](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis) beta'd, as you probably could've guessed. and the title is from [early birdie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AQcJj2frZQ) by owl city.

Nationals is huge.

Reon has never been anywhere this crowded – the stadium feels like a miniature city, packed with players and spectators and vendors, all moving around and on top of each other as though each person believes themselves infinitely more important than everyone else.  It reminds Reon of his town during the spring festival, with droves of people all collected to celebrate – only here, instead of celebrating the changing seasons, they’re celebrating volleyball.  High school volleyball on the _national level._   It’s incredible, to think that the best players in Japan are here – to think that any moment, Reon could bump into a top ace or a future Olympian.

Reon makes his way down thoroughfares, past signs, and up staircases, maneuvering around younger siblings shouting and older players in team jackets.  He feels like just another face in the crowd – another no-name bench-warmer only here because he’s lucky enough to attend a powerhouse school.  If he never made it back to his team’s locker room, he’s not sure anyone would notice his absence.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he spots the sign he’s been seeking for what feels like hours, tucked between a T-shirt stand and a water bottle station: _Men’s bathroom._

Reon steps into line, next to a kid around his height with smooth, tanned skin and close-cropped dark hair.  He turns when he hears Reon behind him, leaving Reon to marvel at his eyes – dark, forest green, and so perceptive, as though he can see straight into Reon’s soul.

“Hi,” the boy says.

“Hey,” Reon replies.  “Long line, huh?”

The other boy shrugs.  “Could be worse.”  He points down the hallway, where the line for the women’s bathroom is snaking around the corner.

“Good point,” Reon says.  “Is your team warming up soon, too?”

“Yeah.”  The other boy nods.  “But I don’t really need to be there – I’m just one of the first-years on the bench.  I doubt I’ll get to play.”

“At least you’re _on_ the bench.  Most of the first-years on my team have to sit up in the stands.  I barely made the cut to be down on the court.”

“Woah, wait – are you from one of those really big powerhouse schools?” the boy asks.

Reon nods, as the two of them take another step closer to the bathroom.  “Yeah – Shiratorizawa.  It’s in Miyagi.  We’ve made Nationals every year since… I don’t even know how long.”

The other boy’s eyes widen.  “That’s incredible.  My school – Nekoma, it’s in Tokyo – we usually make it, but our team’s not as good as it used to be.  We haven’t gotten past the first couple of rounds in a few years.  But there are these two guys who joined with me who think we’re gonna dominate Nationals – they’re kinda insane.”

Reon huffs out a laugh – insane teammates, that sounds familiar.  “A couple of guys on my team are like that, too,” he says.  “One of them, my friend Wakatoshi, he seems to believe he’s going to be the best ace in Japan.  I’d believe it, though, with the way he spikes.”

“Shit, really?  Are all of the guys at powerhouse schools like that?”

“Not all of them.  They’re all weird, though…”

Reon and the other boy keep talking as they make their way into the bathroom, then resume their conversation when they head back to the locker rooms.  Before they split off to their individual teams, the other boy stops and looks at Reon, green eyes wide and brilliant.

“I’m Kai, by the way,” he says.  “Kai Nobuyuki.”

“Oohira Reon,” Reon answers.  “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you, too.”  Kai smiles, for a moment, before turning away – and Reon wishes, strangely, that he could extend this moment – that he could hold onto that smile forever.

* * *

Shiratorizawa goes to Nationals again, after the spring tournament.

Reon doesn’t feel as daunted, this time. Partially because he’s getting used to the crowds and the pressures, Washijou saying they can’t go out for food unless they get through two rounds, and reporters following the team’s third-years with eager flashbulbs - but partially because Reon is feeling a growing sense of responsibility to his teammates.  He finds a map of the stadium, marks important sites, and gives it to Ushijima to help make sure he doesn’t get lost (or at least, that he gets lost fewer times than he did at the previous Nationals), buys several protein bars and stashes them in his bag to give Yamagata when he inevitably grows hungry between games, offers to walk to the bathroom with Semi when he needs to pee (Semi claims it’s just nerves, but everyone and their mother knows about the guy’s small bladder).

Although, to be fair, this last one may be less because of Reon’s desire to help out his teammates and more because he’s hoping, against all odds, to step in line besides certain forest-green eyes, a certain kind smile.  He’s checked the bracket several times – Nekoma didn’t make it this year – but he’s still hoping… Kai said he lives in Tokyo, so maybe he’ll come just to watch.  _(Maybe he’ll come just to watch Shiratorizawa,_ a voice in the back of Reon’s mind supplies, but he dismisses it – just because he goes to a powerhouse school doesn’t give him the right to get cocky.)

Reon scans the stands, scans the crowds, even bumps into a pole on Semi’s fourth bathroom trip.  He keeps thinking he sees the back of a smooth, dark-haired head – hears a good-natured laugh – catches a glimpse of a bright red jersey.  But it’s always someone else, so after a couple of hours, Reon stops looking.  He has a team to cheer on.

This is Reon’s second time at Nationals, but it’s the first time he gets to play – swapped in for one of the third-year wing spikers when a strained muscle takes him out of the game.  He’s nervous – so darn nervous, he’s surprised the shaking of his shoulders doesn’t knock his jersey clean off – but he tells himself to breathe slow and steady.  He bends his knees and feels the floor anchor itself beneath him, as he has a thousand times before.  He clears his mind of everything but this court, this point, this moment.

The ball soars over the net, and he is ready.

Shiratorizawa does not win Nationals, but they win that game – with three points scored thanks to Reon’s receives and one thanks to his spike.  Washijou says he’ll consider putting Reon on the starting lineup next year, which is greater than any compliment Reon could’ve hoped to receive from him.

Before they leave Tokyo, Washijou allows the team an hour of free time in a shopping mall.  Tendou buys a small stack of manga volumes, Yamagata stuffs his face with snacks, Semi spends six thousand yen on a shiny gold hoodie – and Reon buys a small bag that attaches around his waist with a strap.  A fanny pack, it’s called.  For use in future tournaments.

For use in future tournaments.

* * *

In the summer of Reon’s second year, Shiratorizawa goes to Nationals again.

Reon is growing used to this.  The crowds, the cameras, the bathroom lines all greet him like old friends, and by now he knows their tricks, their games, their secrets.  He takes responsibility for showing around the new first-year starters, a golden-haired setter with enough anger in his little finger to fuel the entire Tokyo metro system and a tall, soft-spoken pinch hitter with quiet ambition.  Reon feels confident, feels sure of his team’s victory – Ushijima is a second-year now, too, after all, and his spikes are stronger every day.

And sometimes, yes, he still finds himself seeking out a certain face, a certain voice, but he tells himself it’s a waste of time.  Tells himself there’s no way the other boy would remember.  Tells himself the picture of the boy’s features in his mind has gone blurry.  He’s expecting more seas of strangers, more cheers for his team’s easy dominance.

He’s not expecting to approach the court, in the second round, and find a line of bright red jerseys awaiting him.

Kai is standing near one end of the row, almost inconspicuous between a lanky guy with hair that could support its own ecosystem and a tiny libero smirking as though he’s ready to fight all of Shiratorizawa by himself.  He’s almost inconspicuous, but Reon notices him immediately – notices how he’s grown taller, how his hair has grown longer, how his eyes are the same green as a leafy forest underbelly.

He sees Reon, and smiles – a slight smile, a small smile, but a smile that makes the gym almost imperceptibly brighter.

Reon smiles back.  He knows a challenge when he sees one.

The game is no easy victory.  Reon remembers Kai telling him that Nekoma is well-known for defense, for staying connected until they can get the ball over the net, but this is something else – this is a team that moves together, breathes together, as though each player is a limb of the same organism.  Their libero almost never misses a ball, when he’s on the court, and they’ve got this little first-year setter, with eyes like a cat and a loose stance, who’s unpredictable even to Tendou.  And Kai is almost inconspicuous, except that he rarely misses a receive, except that he covers for his teammates as easily as breathing – except that he’s the vein tying Nekoma together.

Both the second and third sets go into tiebreakers – the first tiebreaker rounds that Shiratorizawa has had to play since their previous Nationals.

Shiratorizawa wins, but only barely.  Ushijima slams down spikes like an unstoppable canon, Tendou jumps and jumps until he finally gets a feel for Nekoma’s setter halfway through the third set, Yamagata takes each of their libero’s receives as a personal affront, Shirabu tosses high and precise, the third-years grit their teeth and fight as though they’re automatons with inexhaustible energy reserves.  And Reon, for his part, tries to stay steady – tries to receive all the balls he can and shout for all the balls he can’t, tries to run forward when his teammates are stagnating, tries to remind them that they are powerful.

After the game – after listening to a lecture from Washijou on letting some no-name team from Tokyo get so close, after sitting in a bathroom stall with his head in his hands until his breathing slows, after reassuring the first-years that they did well – Reon runs down the row of locker rooms, looking for a line of bright red uniforms.  He catches Nekoma just as they’re heading out.

“Hey,” he says, stopping in front of Kai.

The other boy surveys him carefully, as though he’s sizing up a spike to decide how best to receive it.

“You’re not here to gloat, are you?” he asks.

Reon shakes his head.  “No – not at all.”

Kai smiles.  “That’s what I thought.”

“I just wanted to say…”

Kai is still smiling, and Reon forgets what he wanted to say.  Forgets the crowded stadium and the fact that he’s missing cool-down and the eyes of the rest of Nekoma sizing him up.

“That was a good game,” Kai says.

“Yeah,” Reon replies, words returning to him slowly.  “You played really well.”

Kai’s smile widens, his eyes nearly closing.  He reminds Reon of a small sun, burning just outside Reon’s orbit.

“You played well, too,” Kai tells him.  And then, he reaches into his pocket, pulls something out, and holds his arm extended towards Reon.

Reon stares at him, confused.  Is he supposed to take the object?  Oh no, is he supposed to give something in return?  He doesn’t have anything with him –

“My phone,” Kai explains.  “So you can give me your number.”

_Oh._   Reon takes the phone, open to a new contact, and types in his name and number – then, on impulse, adds a simple smiley face after the name.  When he hands it back, most of Kai’s team has already gone, leaving them alone in the hallway.

“I’ve gotta get going, but…” Kai hesitates, then says, “See you at the next Nationals?”

Reon grins.  “Yeah.  See you at the next Nationals.”

* * *

Nekoma doesn’t make it to Nationals the next winter, or the summer after that.

Reon stops scanning crowds and re-reading brackets.  Now, he knows exactly where Kai is – knows that Kai will be watching his team from the bleachers, with a couple of his friends from Nekoma ( _scouting out the competition_ , Kai says), knows that during breaks in Shiratorizawa’s rounds, Kai will meet him just outside the stadium, yakisoba or takoyaki in tow ( _the food inside is all terrible, overpriced, or both,_ Kai says.)  They’ll sit outside, somewhere removed from the chaos of championship matches, and talk about everything from what new antics their teammates have gotten up to to the books they’re reading in class.  Reon eats slowly, trying to make the meal last longer.

There’s something he feels, when he spends time with Kai, that’s different from anything he’s ever felt before.  Something calm, and steady, like a cooling oasis in the midst of a scorching desert.  He’s never nervous, with Kai – never worried about his words being misunderstood or ignored, never concerned that he’s overshadowing a teammate or giving the wrong advice.  He just talks, and Kai listens.  It’s as natural as breathing.

They talk in between Nationals, too – texting about their daily lives, their schoolwork, their volleyball teams.  Kai convinces Reon to get a Snapchat, somewhere near the beginning of their third year, and then proceeds to send him pictures almost every day.  The pictures are usually of mundane things, like the cats in Kai’s neighborhood or the views of Tokyo from the train he takes to school, but Reon can’t help smiling to himself, when he receives them.  It’s as though Kai is bringing Reon into his world, one poorly focused photo at a time.

In return, Reon sends Kai pictures of his neighborhood, of his school, and of the gym.  He becomes adept at capturing his teammates in compromising positions without their noticing – Ushijima grimacing, or Shirabu laughing, or Goshiki with his bangs appearing to float as he lands after a jump.  At one point, Reon somehow manages to take a picture of Tendou emerging from the gym’s closet that’s blurred just enough to make the photo look like one in a poorly researched cryptids guidebook.  Kai tells Reon that Nekoma laughs at the picture for ten minutes straight.

Most of Nekoma knows about Kai’s friendship with Reon – or at least, Kuroo and Yaku are well aware, and constantly tease Kai about it for reasons unclear to Reon – but Reon keeps the relationship a secret, on his end.  He knows Tendou thinks he has a secret girlfriend, or something, but he never says enough to confirm or deny those suspicions.  It’s not just that Washijou frowns upon his players talking to people from other schools – it’s that Reon has spent so much of his life playing back-up to other people.  He doesn’t mind it, he likes supporting his friends, but sometimes it gets tiring to always be on the sidelines.  He doesn’t need to hear people cheering his name – texts with what Kai’s thinking right before he goes to sleep are enough.

In a way, Kai is just his.  And that thought makes Reon feel warm, in a way that he doesn’t let himself examine for too long.

* * *

At the spring tournament in Reon’s third year, Shiratorizawa loses to Karasuno.

It’s a blow none of them saw coming – for so long, Shiratorizawa has been a perfect machine, each player a gear turning in precise rhythm with the others, churning out victories in a never-ending assembly line.  They never thought that a rag-tag team of omnivorous crows would find the flaws in that machine and pick at them until they gave way.  They thought they were invincible – but here they are, staring up at a scoreboard proclaiming their unquestionable defeat.

Reon’s first thought is that the other third-years must be so disappointed.  His second thought is that he won’t be going to Nationals again, this year.  And not going to Nationals means not seeing Kai.

He hates himself for his selfishness – hates that Kai’s eyes are dancing behind his vision as he comforts his kouhais, hates that Kai’s voice is in his ears as he bows to the stands.  But then, he thinks, if he weren’t selfish, if he didn’t want to win, he would never have been a starter at Shiratorizawa in the first place.

_If you aren’t certain of your victory,_ Washijou once said, _you don’t deserve to stand on the court._

Reon gets a text from Kai a couple of weeks later, saying that Nekoma made it to the spring high Nationals for the first time in years – and that’s a blow almost harsher than Karasuno’s number ten’s last spike.

* * *

The train from Miyagi to Tokyo isn’t very crowded.

Reon has two full seats to himself, enough space to stretch his legs out as he works on an essay.  The countryside races past in one fluid motion, like a multicolored stream of mountains and rivers and fields – and then he’s stumbling out onto the platform, head swiveling between benches and signs far nicer than anything in Miyagi and a view of the city he recognizes from Kai’s Snapchats.  The platform is practically empty, since Reon took off late enough that he avoided rush hour, but he almost wishes there were crowds – wishes he could lose himself in a sea of unfamiliar faces so that he’ll have more time to figure out what to say to a familiar one.

“Reon!”

Kai is standing near the back of the platform, by a small stand selling “I HEART TOKYO” T-shirts.  He’s smiling as he waves, and Reon realizes that there would be no point in mapping out a speech beforehand – it would’ve slipped out of his mind by now.

“Hey,” he says, approaching his friend.  Reon then drops his his bag in surprise as Kai wraps his arms around him in a hug – warm and steady, like embracing a patch of sunlight.

“I’m sorry about the spring tournament.”  Kai picks up Reon’s bag, despite his protests that he’s being too polite, and starts leading the way off the platform.  “I’m sure it was rough, missing your last shot at Nationals.”

Reon shrugs.  “It’s okay.  We were all disappointed, but… I think it was good for the team, in the end, to be challenged like that.  They’re going to come back even stronger next year.”

Kai looks at him, but doesn’t say anything – just continues walking, out of the train station and into the late morning sunlight.  His neighborhood is quieter than Reon expected, all short, white apartment buildings and empty streets.  The only person they encounter is an old woman walking her dog, who smiles at the two boys as they pass.

“Most of the suburbs aren’t as chaotic as the main neighborhoods of Tokyo, you know,” Kai says.

Reon glances down at his shoes, strangely embarrassed that Kai was able to tell what he was thinking.  “I knew that.”

“Sure,” Kai replies, a hint of laughter in his voice.  “Just don’t ask me if some random telephone pole is the Skytree.”

Reon stares at him.  “People have done that?”

“Just people from Karasuno.”  Kai proceeds to tell Reon about a training camp they hosted the previous summer, and the many idiotic questions he, Kuroo, and Yaku had fielded from what Kai affectionately calls “those Miyagi hicks.”  The story takes them most of the way to Kai’s house, a new-looking condo with light blue trim that he shares with his parents and younger brother.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” Reon says as they approach the front door.

Kai pauses in unlocking the door to smile at him.  “It’s my pleasure.  And besides, I couldn’t let you stay in some hotel – those are all terrible, overpriced, or both.”

“Terrible, overpriced, or both,” Reon repeats to himself.  The phrase is familiar – familiar and fond, the way Reon always feels when he talks to Kai.  It’s strange, how much he missed this.

* * *

They grab a quick lunch at Kai’s place, then take the train into the city.

Reon has an interview at a school in Tokyo, for a well-known education program that requires its students to train as student teachers at public schools in the city.  It’s Reon’s dream program, and he tells Kai all about it as they watch the suburbs give way to skyscrapers – about the classes he’d get to take, the skills he’d learn, the qualities he’d bring to his students.  Kai knows all about the program already, has known since months before Reon decided to apply, but their conversation is good practice for the interview.

The city is wide and complicated and invigorating, all crowded crosswalks and shouting stoplights.  Reon has been to Tokyo several times, but he’s barely ever been outside of the volleyball stadium or his team’s hotel, and he wants to stop in the middle of the street and close his eyes and just feel the city breathe around him – but he has an interview to go to, so he lets Kai grab his hand and lead him around corners, through crowds, across walkways.

On his team, Reon is always the one who knows where to go.  The one who printed out directions from Google Maps beforehand.  The one with the fanny pack full of snacks and medicine and tissues.  But today, Reon left the fanny pack at home – and it’s surprisingly comforting, not to be the one in control for once.  To just focus on his upcoming interview and let Kai lead.

He’s incredibly thankful, on that walk from the train station to his interview.  But he doesn’t have to say anything to Kai – he thinks that Kai knows.

* * *

“How did it go?” Kai asks.

Reon looks up from his takoyaki, confused.  “How did what go?”

“Your interview,” Kai clarifies.  “For the education program.”

“But that… that was hours ago!”

Kai shrugs.  “We’ve been busy.”

Reon can’t really argue with that – after his interview, Kai met him at a shopping plaza nearby, and they spent the afternoon wandering around Shinjuku and Harajuku, exploring all the niche shops and interesting people.  When they got hungry for dinner, they realized they were both almost out of money (Reon had bought presents for all of his teammates, and Kai had bought a floral-patterned sweatshirt for Yamamoto, whose birthday was coming up), and ended up buying street food in a nearby park.

They’re now sitting on a bench in the center of the park, enjoying weather surprisingly warm for early February.  The sun is setting in the west, orange and gold spilling across the sky and illuminating the nearby evergreen trees in soft light.  The combination of colors, green with a hint of light behind, reminds Reon of Kai’s eyes.

It’s quiet, here – surprisingly quiet, considering they’re in the middle of one of Tokyo’s busiest neighborhoods – quiet enough that it takes Reon a long moment to answer Kai’s question, as he evaluates and reevaluates his thoughts.

“It went well, I think,” he says slowly.  “I was nervous at the beginning, but I answered all the questions well.  And I liked the administrator who interviewed me – she seemed very genuine.”

“What kinds of questions did she ask?” Kai wants to know.

“The usual, I guess,” Reon replies, pausing to take a bite of his takoyaki.  “Stuff about my classes in high school, my involvement in the volleyball team, my volunteer work, why I applied to this program.  She did ask one question that surprised me, though.”

“Yeah?  What was that?”  Kai finished his dinner quickly, and now he’s just looking at Reon – that’s one of the things Reon likes about him, he thinks.  He devotes his focus so completely, as though the person he’s talking to is the most important person in the world.

Reon likes that thought, being the most important person in Kai’s world.

“She asked what I thought of Tokyo,” Reon says.  “Since the school – and the education program in particular – is so integrated with the wider community of the city, they want to make sure their students are really comfortable with that environment.”

“And what did you say?” Kai asks.  The sun is setting faster now, twilight growing around them, but Kai’s eyes are still shining – as though they’re the first evening stars.

“I said… I said that I love this city,” Reon answers.  He takes a deep breath, looks up at the sky – imagines the crowds of people around him, the heart beating inside him.  “I love all the chaos, and all the anonymity, and the movement.  It reminds me of a stadium during a volleyball tournament – everyone’s going somewhere, everyone’s cheering on someone, everyone’s got something they’re working hard for, and when you bring them all into the same place at the same time, it’s this incredible force, this incredible celebration of life.  And you never know when you might bump into a famous writer or an influential politician or a kid who’s going to grow up and change the world or – or someone who will change your life forever.  Someone who will take that chaos and that anonymity and that movement and give you a steady place to watch it from, a place to help you realize how beautiful it all is.  Someone who will make you feel important.  Someone who you’ll want to talk to forever.  Someone who you’ll want to hold on to.  Someone who will make you feel at home.”

There’s a moment – a pause – a breath in, a breath out.  A dog barks, somewhere nearby in the park.

Reon looks at Kai, and looks at Kai, and looks at Kai.  His eyes are shining brighter than before.

“You said… all of that?” Kai asks, quiet as a whisper in the falling twilight.

Reon smiles.  “More or less.”

Kai smiles back – and twilight is falling, but the stars are twinkling to life.  Soon, the sky will be an ocean of light, and the city will be its bright reflection, and Reon and Kai will sit together and talk until they run out of words.

“I bet she loved you,” Kai says.

It’s early February, and Reon has never felt so warm.

* * *

When Reon wakes up the next morning, he has nine new text messages from Tendou.

> **From: Tender Salami  
>  09:06**
> 
> _OOHIRA FANNY PACK REON_
> 
> _YOU HAD A SECRET BOYFRIEND ALL THIS TIME AND DIDNT TELL US_
> 
> _???????????????????????????????????????????_
> 
> **09:15**
> 
> _REON SERIOUSLY WTF IVE NEVER FELT SO BETRAYED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE_
> 
> _GOSHIKI IS CRYING_
> 
> _CRYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!_
> 
> **09:37**
> 
> _Image file: Screenshot_0204005.jpg_
> 
> _LOOK AT YOURSELF. LOOK AT YOUR LIFE. LOOK AT YOUR CHOICES._
> 
> **09:49**
> 
> _WAKATOSHI HAS AGREED YOURE NOT ALLOWED AT PRACTICE UNTIL YOU EXPLAIN_

Reon opens the file – it’s a screenshot of a picture on Instagram, depicting him and Kai at one of the shops they visited yesterday.  They’re both wearing these ridiculous wide-brimmed hats, Kai’s bright green and his bright pink.  And both of them are grinning brightly, laughing at some bad joke Reon had made.  The photo is captioned, “finally got to show this guy around tokyo”.

Reon looks at the picture for a long moment – possibly too long of a moment – then replies.

> **To: Tender Salami  
>  10:13**
> 
> _first, where did you find that._
> 
> _and second, i haven’t had a secret boyfriend all this time._

Tendou replies impressively quickly.

> **From: Tender Salami  
>  10:14**
> 
> _the nekoma captain sent it to wakatoshi and wakatoshi showed it to me and i sent it to the rest of the team_
> 
> _and youre not denying that YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND_
> 
> _???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Reon sighs.  He should’ve known better than to try to keep anything a secret from his teammates.  But then – he glances across the bed, where Kai is still sleeping, curved on his side, limbs splayed out across the sheets.  He almost seems to glow, in the golden morning sunlight.

Reon reaches out one hand and traces the line of Kai’s spine.  Kai smiles slightly at the contact, and Reon marvels that he can do this.  He wonders what might happen, if he gets into that program and Kai stays in the city for school (as he’s hoping to) and they find an apartment together and he can do _this_ and _this_ and _more than this –_

Well.  That’s all in the future, sunlit mornings stretching into hopeful afternoons stretching into long twilights.  That’s all in the future.  Right now, Reon pulls himself away from the possibilities, and answers his friend.

> **To: Tender Salami  
>  10:17**
> 
> _i’m not denying it._

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor) / [tumblr](http://owlinaminor.tumblr.com/)
> 
> UPDATE, 1/2/17: megan [drew the instagram photo](https://twitter.com/ohirareon/status/816058795340296192), and i've embedded her art in the fic! look at it. it's gorgeous.


End file.
